Eddie babysits Theo one time—one time—and suddenly it's basketball this, basketball that; can we get a hoopy-thing for outside and when is Eddie coming back and why doesn’t he live here; things would be so much better if Eddie was here all the time.
Buck struggled to disagree with many of those points.
Did Buck try to distract Theo with dinosaurs and Hotwheels and whatever else he’s collected around Buck’s house after only a few months? Sure. He’s not too proud of it. Did Theo outsmart him every time by literally not letting go of his child-size nerf basketball for a week? Also yes. Buck’s not proud of that either.
The one unexpected benefit of this new obsession comes in the form of Buck lounging on his stoop, legs crossed in front of him receiving a tan from the overhead sun as he runs colorful commentary about the game at hand.
A plastic basketball hoop for toddlers is propped up at the end of the driveway. Eddie’s truck is parked in a way to block access to the street—though Theo has proven to be a master escape artist when he wants to.
Eddie chases after Theo who is definitely travelling with the ball. He manages to snag it from Theo, exaggerating his triumph and flicks it over his shoulder. The ball misses by a good mile. Theo giggles and runs after it.
“Ooh, and a bad shot by Diaz,” Buck calls out, holding his glass of lemonade like a microphone. “One must ask if this is truly the end of his career.”
When Theo’s back is turned, Eddie flips him the bird and Buck cackles. It’s such a shame Chris had school today. They could have tag-teamed ribbing Eddie together.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Eddie walks towards Buck—stalks him, more like. He places his hands on his hips. “Why don’t you join us?”
“Nah, I’m perfectly happy here.”
Eddie cocks his head, tousled hair flopping against his forehead. “What’re you scared of losing to a four year old?”
Buck wrinkles his nose; that’s not going to work on him this time. That magnetic cocky attitude. He doesn’t notice himself placing down his drink, pre-preparing to stand. “I’d crush the both of you, don’t deny it.”
Eddie’s grin fails to mask his skepticism. His sarcastic tone doesn’t help either. “Oh, I’m sure.”
“You asked for it.” Buck hauls himself off the stoop. When Theo sees him joining the ‘fun,’ he races toward him, excitedly yammering about basketball probably. Buck is too focused on Eddie’s smug face to register. He ruffles Theo’s sweaty hair—bathtime is going to be a bitch tonight, he just knows. “We’re going to bring Eddie down a peg, okay?”
Theo clearly doesn’t understand what that means but he matches Buck’s serious enthusiasm anyways. “Yeah! We’ll crush Eddie!”
Buck turns his smile at Eddie. “That’s the spirit.”
It becomes a one-on-one game by the end. Theo quickly loses interest in the competition, electing to draw chalk caricatures of them or renaissance portraits, depending on how you look at it. The hoop is small enough that Buck can use his whole body to block all of it. Eddie can’t find an opening. The ball hits the pavement as he lunges only for Buck to foil his attempt. He can read Eddie like a well-loved book, spine creased and pages dog-earred.
Eddie darts backwards before they collide. “Don’t bust my ankle this time, Buckley,” he huffs.
“One time,” Buck mutters, but he knows he wouldn’t do something like that now. Not when Eddie’s attention is already locked on him, no distractions—besides the occasional check-in on the resident four year old.
The next time Eddie makes a break for it, Buck grabs him by the waist, wraps his arms around his body, not hugging really, just holding, in a wild, impulsive move to stop Eddie from catching an opening. Eddie’s momentum causes them to spin together before settling, basketball between them. Frozen, Eddie stares, motionless except for blinking and breathing. The beat of his heart pounds hard enough that it reaches to where Buck lays his hands flat on Eddie’s back. His chest brushes Buck’s own whenever he breathes out.
“That’s a dirty, illegal move,” Eddie eventually comments, voice rough from exertion. His body slides against Buck’s as he tosses the ball over Buck’s head. It swishes into the net, bouncing and rolling across the drive before resting on the lawn. “I win.” He smirks again, and then absently over his shoulder, he calls out, “Theo, we won!” His gaze stays forever trained on Buck.
Theo cheers but remains invested in turning the driveway into a Jackson Pollock painting.
“Theo was on my team,” Buck argues.
“He was secretly on my team. We made a pact before you joined.”
“Traitors. In my own house.” Buck sighs. “Chris would never do such a thing to me.”
With his hands now free, Eddie rests them on Buck’s arms. His fingers curl around his biceps, tapping inane beats against his bare skin. Eddie’s hands are warm and sweaty from the stupidly intense game of Buck’s least favorite sport. He doesn’t mind one bit.
Eddie laughs. “How can I make it up to you?”
Stay. Never leave. “Buy the good beer next time.”
“I do buy the good beer.”
“Then you have shi—stupid taste in beer, Eddie.” Buck shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised, with your stupid taste in sports after all. Which you corrupted Theo with; hate you for that a little, by the way.”
“You and Chris have your thing; me and Theo have ours.”
They do, don’t they? Like a true family unit. His stomach twists at the sudden thought. “I’m glad he has that with you,” Buck admits. After the immense hardship Theo has been through recently, Buck is happy to know Theo has more than just him, that he has Eddie and Chris, and the entire 118 if need be.
Eddie’s expression softens. “You’re doing great with him, you know. He’s adjusted well.”
Buck ducks his head, unsure. “I guess.”
Eddie grabs his face, refusing to let him hide, and he waits until Buck makes eye contact with him. “Hey,” Eddie coaxes, gentle and quiet, “You’re a wonderful foster parent. Don’t doubt yourself.”
Buck allows a soft smile to tug at his mouth. He doesn’t even register that he is still holding onto Eddie, not really. Eddie, for his part, hasn’t moved either. His grip seems to tighten the longer they stay linked together. He quirks his mouth; his lips part.
“Are you two going to kiss?” Theo asks with all the naive innocence in the world, appearing before them as if summoned by magic.
Ripping himself away from Eddie, Buck almost stumbles backwards into the basketball hoop. His face burns, a white hot sear. What the hell. He needs to put a bell on that kid stat.
"Hey, Buck, guess you're out on a call. Should've known. Bell probably rang the moment I dropped my last fare off. Anyway, just calling to check in. Hope it's an easy one! Call me back when you get a chance."
"Hey, Buck. You would not believe the ride I just had. Had to take them all the way up to Mesquite. Dead silence the whole time. And they weren't even on their phone! Whatever. It was an extortionate fee, thank God. And they tipped pretty well, but I was bored out of my mind. Hope you're having more fun than me. Call me back."
"Goddamn, you're busy today. Ravi say quiet again? Go easy on the kid. He can't be blamed for your crazy superstitions. Be safe. And call me!"
"Hey, Buck, hope you're doing okay. You've been MIA for hours, and I'm not above admitting I'm a little worried. Got my fingers crossed it's a bunch of fender benders. Nothing big. Just let me know you're good, okay? Even if it's just texting me an emoji from the back of the truck."
"Buck, come on, man. Jesus, I feel crazy. I don't think we've gone this long without speaking since I got out here. Chris has been making fun of me all night for being glued to my phone. Says I'm worse than his friend Jason waiting for Miley to text him back. Like I'm some lovesick teenager. Um. Anyway... Please just let me know you're okay. I'm worried sick over here."
"So many fucking voicemails and I just realised you won't even be able to listen to them if you're that busy. I feel like an idiot. I'm gonna hang up and text you. Please ignore my spiralling when you get home. God, you probably think something's wrong. Fuck. Idiot. We're fine. Everything's fine. I just miss you. Anyway."
Hey, Buck, ignore my voicemails. Nothing's wrong! Everything's fine, I'm just worried about you.
Two mornings, technically, the early summer sun just starting to make the room grow gold.
Almost two weeks, if you count the week and a half spent actually trying to switch off sleeping on the couch. Ten days before they had to sit down and admit that they were, in fact, in their thirties, and the couch was not meant to hold anyone who was six-foot-anything, and it was only going to be temporary, right?
So Eddie had claimed the side closest to the door and they tested how loud Buck’s 1000 Facts for Sleep and Relaxation videos could be before it was too much and they just. Shared the bed.
And that next morning, far too early for a day off, the first signs of dawn just starting to creep in, Buck had woken up with a line of heat along his back and an arm around his waist and Eddie nuzzling against him, nose behind his ear.
“Uh,” he had said, stupidly, every muscle in his body suddenly tense. “Eddie,” he had hissed, shoving an elbow behind him and right into his solar plexus.
Eddie had grunted and then tensed as well, frozen in place, still pressed against him.
“Comfortable?” Buck had joked, or tried to at least, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
And Eddie was silent for a moment, actually considering the question, and answered, “Yeah, actually.”
And then he had pressed his mouth against the shell of his ear, lips pursed dramatically, and kissed him with an exaggerated ‘Mwah.’ Then he laughed, and with a last gentle squeeze around his middle, he had rolled over and gone back to sleep.
And Buck had laughed too, tension gone, and he snuggled himself down into a cooler part of his pillow. When he woke a few hours later, Eddie was already up and gone.
It happened again, the next morning. Eddie Diaz, human furnace, plastered against him. Buck’s shirt had ridden up in the night, and Eddie’s arm was tight around his stomach, skin to skin. And once again, his face was pressed against his neck, pressing harder with every small movement of his head. And then, soft and gentle, he had kissed him, right at the base of his neck, the start of his spine.
And Buck broke. Cracked like an egg, exposing the tender, gooey core of him.
It would be so easy, he thought, to turn in the cage of Eddie’s arms and kiss him for real. Sweep his tongue into his mouth, rake his fingers down his spine, through his hair. Let himself be the one to nuzzle into Eddie’s neck this time, suck a mark there, watch him try to hide it for the rest of the day.
Push him back onto the mattress.
Take their clothes off.
Meanwhile, as Buck spiraled, Eddie had slowly woken up, quietly laughed to himself at finding them here, again, then rolled out of bed to be the first to claim the bathroom for the day.
Buck had rolled into the spot hie had left, still warm like the sun, and stared at the ceiling, and thought about how royally fucked he was.
The thing he should have done was move back to the couch. Double down on his house hunt. Hell, get back on the apps and find someone who actually wanted to cuddle him when they’re conscious. It wouldn’t solve the overall problem of, Oops, in love with Eddie, but it sure wouldn’t hurt.
But Buck is selfish, apparently, and did none of the above.
And it keeps happening. Of course it does. Not every morning, but most. And sometimes Eddie’s head is pillowed on his chest, burrowing his face between his pecs as he starts to wake. And sometimes, Buck gets to be the big spoon, gets to let himself hold and pretend and breathe him in before he notices.
But most mornings it’s Eddie tight against his back, strong arms pulling him close, knee slotted between his own, ankles hooked together. Mouth hot against his curls, his shoulders, his neck. Not always a kiss, but sometimes. Sometimes two! Those are the really lucky days.
And when Eddie wakes, he laughs, a low private laugh to say, oh, this again, before it’s back to sleep or up and at ’em, depending on the day.
And that’s it. They never talk about it. Even though it keeps happening.
Years of the army and parenthood and 8AM shifts means Eddie automatically wakes at ass-o-clock in the morning, even if it’s just to shrug and go back to sleep. So Buck’s now waking up just those few moments earlier. He needs the time to tamp down his anticipation, take control of his breathing, get his body to stay liquid in Eddie’s arms.
He doesn’t want to think about what would happen if Eddie knew he was awake.
And, oh, this morning Buck wakes up to find Eddie’s just completely shoved his arm up under his shirt, a hot line across his body ending in a hand curled loosely against his chest. His nose is buried in the crook of his shoulder, lips parted, breath leaving a damp spot on the back of his tee-shirt.
Buck starts from his toes and gets every muscle to relax, to melt back into the mattress, into Eddie. He keeps his breathing slow, a little shallow. And he waits.
Soon enough, he feels the slightest increase in pressure against his shoulder, a deep inhale as Eddie starts to stir. Eddie’s toes point and stretch, rubbing against the back of Buck’s calves. His hand uncurls, rests flat against his chest.
Eddie’s head moves slightly, still breathing deeply though his nose, and there, right where the collar his Buck’s shirt turns to skin, he presses his mouth, soft and sweet.
He shifts again, and there, higher up the back of his neck, where his hair starting to thicken. More pressure, lips pursed, a real kiss this time.
Two today, Buck thinks. Lucky me.
He waits for Eddie to wake further, for his soft chuckle as he tries to untangle himself.
But instead… again, there, right at his hair line, complete with a soft little sound from the pressure of his breath.
And again, again, small pecks until Eddie’s mouth is pressed against the shell of his ear, like the first time, that first morning. It’s not a joke this time, not exaggerated but tender. Real.
Buck knows he should do something, should stop this, but can’t bring himself to do it. Because this is the last time it’s going to happen, probably, once Eddie’s fully awake, once he knows what he’s done.
Right on cue, Eddie slides his mouth down, a few more kisses down his neck, lips parted, a trail of saliva in his wake. And then he stops. Mouth still firm against his skin, breathing still deep. Like he’s waiting.
The hand against his chest shifts, cupping his pec, palm flat against his nipple.
The other place he can feel his heart beat right now, Buck realizes. The heart beat he can do nothing to prevent from going crazy at the very first touch.
“Um,” Buck says, caught out, and the only thing he can think to say is a tentative, “Eddie?”
“Buck,” Eddie says, directly into his skin. It’s muffled, obviously, but clear and firm. Not half-asleep. Not unaware.
“Wha- what are you doing?” Buck chokes out.
Eddie’s silent for a moment, actually considering the question, and answers, “Indulging myself.”
And he kisses him again, right against his pulse. And again, lips parted, wet and sucking. And again.
And again.
The hand on his pec shifts, and now his thumb is gently circling his nipple. Eddie’s whole body shifts, pressing their hips together, and Buck can’t hold back a gasp.
Then Eddie speaks again, rough and low, lips wet against his earlobe.
Buck, who seemingly doesn’t know when to stop, turns to Hen next.
“Oh no,” she says immediately. “No, no, no. Don’t.”
“Hen, I need help,” Buck insists. “Eddie picked me up and it was hot. Then Ravi did it and it wasn’t. I just wanna know if it’s the lift that’s hot, or if it’s—” he gestures vaguely toward Eddie’s retreating back, “that man specifically who scrambles my brain like a microwave burrito.”
Hen squints at him. “Let me get this straight—”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Chimney mutters from the floor.
Hen ignores him. “—you want me, a married lesbian, to pick you up so you can measure how horny it does or doesn’t make you?”
Buck nods, all confidence and zero shame. “Exactly.”
Hen shrugs. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”
Chim makes a strangled noise of betrayal.
Hen walks over, braces herself, and says, “Arms up, sweetheart. Let Mama Hen carry your confused ass to Jesus.”
I have a buddie fic idea where it’s that trope of bringing a plus one to a wedding only it’s not fake dating and more of people assuming they are a couple.
In my head it’s one of Eddie’s sister’s wedding, he’s going to be in it so he has to go and it’s a no kids wedding so he can’t hang out with Chris to avoid people. Buck offers to come as a buffer, which Eddie at first is like “wouldn’t that be weird?” but Buck assures him it will be fine.
Bc of what we know about Eddie’s family and my own experiences with a catholic family, I can very much see people gossiping about Eddie and Buck in a very quiet but judgemental way where at first they don’t notice and think the whole thing is going well but eventually someone makes a comment to them or they overhear lt and then it somehow makes its way back to Eddie’s parents.
Buck would blame himself bc the whole thing was his idea and bc he assumes people are clocking his crush on his best friend and now Eddie is taking heat for it. Then Eddie would end up defending him to his parents during some public blow up argument and maybe admit some things about himself.
huge fan of the headcanon of eddie coming out to buck & confessing his love in one go because he’s sure buck will reciprocate, and buck rejecting eddie on the spot because he’s taken off guard and hasn’t had the chance to process what the enormous amount he Feels for eddie even means because up until now eddie’s been Straight and his Best Friend and a renter.
so maybe eddie’s in the dumps and he’s a little tipsy and lamenting to henren because buck’s been burying himself in theo and work and procedure and anything that doesn’t have to do with eddie for the past week, and karen ends up setting him up on a casual date with a coworker of hers for the night after next. no pressure, no biggie. just a way for him to get out and maybe get some of the weight off of his shoulders for a couple hours by getting to know someone.
and buck hears about it, of course he does, because ravi’s razzing eddie in the locker room the next morning about the outfit he’s picked to change into after shift, chimney’s asking for pictures of the guy, and harry’s trying not to look at buck like he’s a kicked puppy. he’s antsy and irritable all shift, out of sync on the minimal calls they do have and skulking around the station for the most part because of course it’s a q-word shift, why wouldn’t it be.
by the time they’re off the 24 his body drives him to maddie’s house outside of his own volition, and as he knocks frantically on the front door all he can think is that he’s glad chim’s still held up at the station when maddie opens up and the first thing he blurts out is “i’m in love with eddie.”
maddie blinks, face shifting into something next to sympathy and understanding, and says, “i know.”
he tells her everything. by the time he’s spiraling into eight different ways to sunday that karen’s coworker could end up being eddie’s soulmate all because buck screwed up his one chance, maddie cuts him off.
“buck—back around when you started dating tommy, i told you something.” she pauses, pointed, and buck takes a breath. “i told you that if you had something to tell eddie, that you would… but it would be in your own time.”
buck swallows. maddie nods.
“i think you’ve found your time.”
“but maddie, he’s on a date—”
“evan.” there’s no misinterpreting the breadth of meaning beneath her tone. “go to him.”
and so he does. he’s skidding down the walkway and hopping in his truck cartoonishly fast, eddie’s location blinking away on his phone at some restaurant on the outskirts of the city, screen brightness near illuminating the cab in the evening shadow. seconds or lightyears could have passed by by the time he’s veering into a parallel spot on the street, crooked and careless, a drizzle beginning to dot the windshield, heart thumping desperately in his chest and whooshing through his eardrums. he crashes through the front door, entrance bell clattering, breath heaving, and—
“…buck?”
the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, bewildered and confused and a touch rightfully angry, cheeks flushed and hair carefully swept away from his face, deep burgundy button down collar flared open to the third button, st. christopher’s medallion winking under the low light.
“eddie.”
he had more to say, rehearsed it to all hell and jumbled in his head on repeat on the drive there, but it’s all stuck in his throat. eddie’s date—john, or ron, or don, whoever he is—is looking between them, expression neutral if a little curious. buck disregards him. tries again.
“i—don’t. don’t finish this date.”
eddie’s annoyance flares, then, a fire of challenge in his eyes, hurt and defiance and something else so close to hope that it burns at the back of buck’s throat and behind his eyes until he can taste it.
“you’re unbelievable.”
“eddie, please. just—don’t.”
suddenly eddie’s storming past him, linen napkin fluttering from the table to the empty seat of his chair before plopping to the ground, an air of date night cologne and pomade clouding buck’s senses until all that remains is a homing beacon pulling him after eddie. he follows the tinkle of the bell at the door and shoulders past the glass before it closes.
rain’s coming down heavy, now. he wades through it, sweatshirt soaking and dampening his undershirt to stick to his skin, and catches eddie’s shoulder before he can make it to his truck.
“what?” eddie asks. he has to speak up over the rain. it’s meant to be sharp, but it’s too weak to come across right. buck’s heart clenches, quick and painful.
“i’m sorry,” buck emphasizes, tightening his grip just a little harder, pressing the apology into the meat of eddie’s flesh through the sodden layer of his shirt.
eddie’s jaw tightens.
“i’m an idiot.” buck continues. eddie’s eyes shimmer bright, even through the rain, and his brow twitches. he remains silent.
“it’s—” buck’s words get caught in his throat again, and he can’t avoid how they break on the next breath. “it’s always been you.” he swallows. “it’ll always be you.”
then eddie’s fingers are twisting in the neckline of his hoodie, nails brushing slick skin, and buck shifts his hand from eddie’s shoulder to the perfect cut of his freshly shaven jaw to cradle his face just as their lips slot together.
thunder rumbles in the distance. the rain hammers on, and the smell of petrichor permeates.
buck licks salt from between the cradle of eddie’s lips and is sure it’s a mix of their tears.
“C’mon, Theo,” Buck pleads, a slight strain towards the edge of his voice, “Broccoli's good for you. I know you want to eat the yummy broccoli.” Waving the fork in front of Theo, Buck makes some airplane noises because he thinks that’s how you’re supposed to get kids to eat their vegetables. He hasn’t had time to properly wiki it yet.
But Theo stubbornly shakes his head. His mouth is clamped so tight that his whole face scrunches up. Buck would call it adorable if he wasn’t at his wits’ end.
“Hey, Theo,” Eddie says as he walks out of Buck's kitchen, previously busy washing the dishes since Buck cooked dinner. He dries his hands on a dish towel he throws over his shoulder as he crouches down to meet Theo's height on the chair. “Would you try the broccoli for me?”
Theo stares at Eddie for a moment, probably mirroring Buck's expression of wide-eyed confusion and slight awe. It doesn’t take him long to debate his options before he nods and says, “Okay,” while grabbing the fork from Buck’s outstretched hand and shovels the broccoli into his mouth.
Eddie beams. “Good job, buddy.”
Theo cheeses a big grin, proud when he opens his empty mouth to reveal he ate it all and it’s not hidden under his tongue.
Buck’s own mouth falls open. What the hell? Theo folds immediately after Eddie asks nicely? Do you know how many times Buck has asked Theo nicely to finish his dinner? “Traitors, both of you,” he mumbles, mostly to Eddie, “That’s just not fair.”
Ruffling Theo’s hair, Eddie laughs as he turns his attention onto Buck, eyes gleaming—fully and completely unaware of Buck’s heart skipping a beat. “Maybe next time, bud.”
Buck really can’t fault Theo at all. Who wouldn’t do anything because Eddie asked? Peas in a pod is what they are and Eddie knows it too well.
Eddie is alone again. They'd rolled Buck through doors plastered with medical personnel only signs, and Eddie had tried to follow. Was ready to argue his EMT certification with anyone who dared drag him away.
But it was the nurse Eddie had woken up to, the woman with the kind smile and kinder eyes, that caught him by the uninjured elbow and gently led him towards the waiting room chairs. She fetched him a plastic cup of stale water and pressed it into his hand before sitting down beside him.
"You don't have to wait with me," he rasps, glaring at the doors Buck had disappeared through.
"We look after our own around here," she murmurs back. And Eddie knows there's nothing of New Mexico in him, but when he meets those kind eyes of hers, he sees recognition reflected back. "I'm sorry about the sheriff and the meatheads from the diner." Her sigh is world-weary like she's carrying the weight of your kind around her neck too. "This isn't the friendliest of places. That's probably why we're out in the middle of nowhere."
Eddie huffs half a laugh.
"You ever think about moving somewhere friendlier?"
"Sure, but then who would be here to welcome the outsiders?"
The smile they share makes Eddie feel like a traitor. It comforts him more than the shock blanket they'd tried to drape around his shoulders in the ambulance, but it's not his smile to share in, is it? It's not his smile to take comfort in, and yet...
An hour and seventeen minutes into surgery, Eddie's phone starts to buzz. The nurse, whose name he should probably get sometime soon, takes the plastic cup from him, so he can pull his phone from his pocket, wincing at the spear of pain through his shoulder. It's Chimney's name across the screen, and Eddie takes a deep breath. He hits answer.
"Hey," he croaks, then clears his throat. "No news yet."
"Yeah, I figured." Chimney takes a moment to chew on something, and it's not his usual chunk of gum. "I was actually calling about you, Prince Charming."
"Me?" Eddie recoils like he's finally got the punch he was bracing for in the diner. "I'm fine."
"Your car flipped and you escaped the hospital less than twelve hours later to run through the desert."
"Buck was missing."
"I know," Chimney almost snaps, but it's an edge too gentle to be the kind of cutting Eddie is hankering for. "I'm not reprimanding you, Eddie. I'm not calling as Captain Han. I'm calling as... Friend Chimney."
"Well, pal, you don't have to worry about me. I'll probably be in the bed beside Buck's until we're cleared to travel." Needs to be. Needs to wake up and look to his left and see Buck real and alive and breathing. "Although, you're going to be two men down for the foreseeable future."
"No, not Captain Han, remember?" he trills. "Friend Chimney, and as your friend Chimney, I'm uniquely qualified to understand the situation you're in right now."
"You are?" Eddie quirks an eyebrow. Immediately regrets it as it tugs the ache at the back of his head into a full headache pulsing in his temples.
"I know what it's like to have no idea where your Buckley is," he says softly. "Or if they're even breathing. That hurts worse than an abdomen full of stab wounds or a chest full of broken ribs."
Eddie feels like Chimney has just reached into his body and snapped his few intact ribs to make a complete set. He struggles to breathe around whatever has lodged itself between the fractures in his ribcage.
In a single twenty-four hours, four people have made the same assumption about him and Buck. Half of those weren't the kindest of assumptions. They were easy to ignore. The hostility of a small town suddenly stretching their borders to fit outsiders. Even the nurse's assumption was easy to write off. She doesn't know them.
But Chimney does.
"My point is," Chimney continues like he can't hear Eddie wheezing down the line. "If you need to talk, I'm here."
If Chimney is making these assumptions, if Eddie isn't just princess but Buck's nickname keeper, if Eddie isn't just an outsider but Buck's Chimney, that's going to be a lot harder to hide from.
"Thanks," he chokes out. "I'll keep that in mind."
But no. No. Chimney isn't saying that they're... He just knows what it's like to care for a Buckley. And Maddie and Chimney were best friends once, weren't they?
(Is that the point?)
"I'm really glad you got another tomorrow, Eddie. Don't waste it."
Tomorrow isn't promised to anyone, so if you love her, tell her.
So maybe that is what Chimney meant.
"Chim—"
His nurse taps him on the arm, and Eddie looks up from the dust on his boots as a doctor emerges from the double doors opposite them. Eddie pushes himself up from his chair with a groan and waddles, for lack of a better word, over to the surgeon.
"Is he okay?" he asks, and maybe he's not helping his whole Buck is a friend case, but he doesn't give a shit. Los Nietos can think whatever they want of he and Buck just so long as they keep him alive.
"Mr Buckley is doing very well."
The relief almost takes him out at the knees. The nurse rushes over to keep him upright. Eddie puts Chim on speaker.
"We patched all the internal damage form the crash," the doctor continues. "He's in recovery now. We've given him some strong painkillers, so it might take him a little longer to wake up, but you're welcome to go and sit with him."
